Laura Terry joined the Fay Jones School of Architecture and Design in 1998. Since then, she has taught primarily in the beginning design studios. She strives to foster curiosity in her students through iterative drawing and making practices.
Terry also maintains an active studio art practice. Her work explores the landscape as subject and through drawing, painting and printmaking. A recent solo exhibition “How to Measure a Forest” was displayed in the Fred and Mary Smith Exhibition Gallery in Vol Walker Hall. Her work has been included in many national juried exhibitions, including the “Ink and Clay 46” at the Kellogg University Art Gallery at Cal Poly Pomona, the 61st Annual Delta Exhibition, “Horizon: Contemporary Landscape” and Art Fields.
What brought you to the University of Arkansas?
My professor from when I was a first-year student at Auburn University became the department head here. We had stayed in touch, and one August, he called. He knew I had recently finished graduate school and asked if I was interested in teaching. That was in 1998. I started teaching beginning design in a variety of classes. Then, over the years, I taught classes that were craft-based, things like bookbinding, printmaking and landscape painting. During the pandemic and since the pandemic, I’ve been teaching the architecture lecture class, which is the introduction to architecture for non-architecture majors.
Why have you stayed at the Fay Jones School for 26 years?
I have always loved the students. I’ve never been disappointed by their quality. I think they are eager to learn. They’re very earnest and genuinely interested in being here. Especially teaching in the first year, it’s always wonderful to have those fresh new perspectives every year. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would still be here after 26 years, but I’ve grown to love Northwest Arkansas.
How have the students’ perspectives changed in 26 years?
Just in terms of the internet and social media, the amount of information at people’s fingertips now is so much more than it was in 1998. I think students are coming into the program more knowledgeable, or at least they’ve been more exposed to architecture and design than they were then. That has drawbacks because there’s something nice about students coming in curious. I feel like with social media in particular there is almost a stereotype of what architecture and design is. I think that can be misleading for students. They think they know what they’re coming into, but they don’t fully understand what it means to be a designer. It takes a lot of practice. And it takes a willingness to try things, to fail and to test things, to go into something with a completely open mind. That is what I would say has changed. Looking back to the late 1990s and early 2000s, there was a simplicity about things because we weren’t dealing with as much information as we are now. Students then didn’t have that same preconceived notion of what design school would look like.
What is something about your job that people might not realize?
People don’t always realize the difficulty of teaching early and beginning design. I would say, during the first two semesters, the content is not architecture in the way the students think of architecture. It’s about building a solid foundation to rely on as they move through the program. I think people assume that beginning design should be really easy. I don’t mean to suggest that it’s the hardest of the years to teach, but I think part of the responsibility of beginning design is to foster these students’ curiosity, confidence and skills. It can’t only be about the skills; it has to be about the bigger picture. I strive to instill that competence in students. While they’re moving through the program, they need to believe they can do this if they’re willing to put in the work. Design is work. It is the long hours. It is the process. It is the iteration. It is self-reflection and self-critique. If students are willing to open themselves to that, they can do this.
What would you say is the most difficult part of your job?
Grading.
Some things are so important, but they are impossible to grade. These are things like a student’s growth over 16 weeks, a student having an “aha!” moment in the middle of the semester, or how much someone tries. We try to find ways to sneak those things into the grade, but grading is the most joyless part of the semester. Often, grades happen at a point in the semester where it’s not beneficial to the students. We’re grading on a timeline, and the design process doesn’t fit neatly into a timeline. I think in general there’s far too much emphasis on grades in our society right now, and I think they can be more harmful than good. It doesn’t predict whether someone’s going to be a successful architect or not. So, it’s really tough.
What is a talent or skill that you are mastering?
I am practicing nature writing and trying to hone that craft. I think the lessons of design apply to the craft of writing as well. When we talk about the structure of a building, we could talk about the structure of a paragraph. There is also a nuance to the art. It’s the attention to detail that makes something transcend from being ordinary architecture or something from being an ordinary piece of writing. There’s a way in which an author writes particular words or writes things in a particular way that’s analogous to how an architect would design a building. It’s like if I’m drawing or painting, I can do those things really naturally because I’ve been doing them for 40 years. I’ve been writing for a long time too, but nature writing in particular is very different than academic writing. It’s like I’m in uncharted territory. It’s nice. It is also a bit scary. But I think you should always do things that scare you.
I have no problem editing; I think that is because of the way I work artistically. I’ll work and then I’ll step back and react, and if I don’t like something, I change it. If I’m working on paper, I might cut it out or cover it up. I have enough confidence visually in that process to know that this act of editing or of iterating is going to get me closer to what I’m trying to achieve. Computers make it that much easier to write because you can just save the file with another name. It doesn’t go away. With art, something you cut out is gone.
What is something that you wish others knew about you?
I’m pretty much an open book. There are more things that I probably wish they didn’t know about me. One is that I think too much. I have a photographic memory, and I often replay things that have happened. I can remember things I said, and then I remember things I wish I hadn’t said. I’m way more analytical than people think.
Are you able to forget old projects and move on?
I don’t know how I could. I think it’s all just layer upon layer upon layer. I think all of those things shape the experience. The funny thing now is, after teaching for so long, I absolutely can see similarities in a project from a student this year compared to a student four or six years ago. It’s almost like there is a cycle of students that keeps repeating. I think that’s partially just the nature of design. Everything really has been done before.
What is your favorite medium?
I like working on paper. So, my favorite medium is any that I can use on paper, whether it’s graphite or watercolor. I also have a fondness for making collages. I like cutting things up and reassembling them. Paper is the vehicle for ideas.
What is an accomplishment that you are proud of?
That’s a really hard question to answer. I think seeing students graduate, knowing that I had a hand in that in some way. And also, seeing the students successful out in the world. I’m fortunate to keep in touch with students via social media. Now and then, I’ll get a message from a former student who will be at a museum or out in the city. They’ll take a photograph and send it and say, “When I saw this, I thought of you. I remember a conversation we had, or I remember on a field trip you told us we should pay attention to these things. Now, every time I go out, I pay attention to those things.” Those are little moments that are like, “Oh yeah, I actually do matter. I do have an impact on people.”